


Cygnus

by ShadeofElizabeth



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Ancient Roman Religion & Lore, Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Multi, On Hiatus, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:22:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26292574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadeofElizabeth/pseuds/ShadeofElizabeth
Summary: The Queen of Sparta is brutally assaulted while bathing in the river one evening, with no memory of what happened except for a recurring dream of a swan swimming towards her.In the coming months, she finds herself pregnant and afraid as her memory slowly returns. How will she overcome the trauma she has experienced, and what will become of the children she bears?This will be a multi-chapter work that will incorporate reimagined and empowering stories of women in Greek Mythology.Some of the myths that will be included are:-Leda and the Swan-Medusa and the Gorgons-Philomela and Procne-Arachne and Athena-Ariadne's String and the LabyrinthMAJOR TRIGGER WARNING--- DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT FIRST CHECKED THE TAGS!!!!!************On Hiatus
Relationships: Hades/Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Hades/Persephone (Lore Olympus), Leda/Zeus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is my attempt at the story of Leda and the Swan, also known as the Rape of Leda in Greek Mythology. It is going to be a really dark story, so please be careful. I don't have a beta reader at this time, nor readers for sensitivity, so if you are uncomfortable with something in this story or the way I am handling it, I would love to hear from you so I can make it better. 
> 
> I will add that this story is very loosely inspired by Lore Olympus, the incredible comic by Rachel Smythe. However, the Zeus of her comic is in no way related to the Zeus of my story. Rachel's Zeus is (at the time of posting this) a morally ambiguous character, while the Zeus of Cygnus will have no redemption arc.

> **_Leda and the Swan_ **
> 
> _A sudden blow: the great wings beating still_
> 
> _Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed_
> 
> _By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill,_
> 
> _He holds her helpless breast upon his breast._
> 
> _How can those terrified vague fingers push_
> 
> _The feathered glory from her loosening thighs?_
> 
> _And how can body, laid in that white rush,_
> 
> _But feel the strange heart beating where it lies?_
> 
> _A shudder in the loins engenders there_
> 
> _The broken wall, the burning roof and tower_
> 
> _And Agamemnon dead._
> 
> _Being so caught up,_
> 
> _So mastered by the brute blood of the air,_
> 
> _Did she put on his knowledge with his power_
> 
> _Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?_
> 
> _-W.B. Yeats_

* * *

**Cygnus**

* * *

> _Water droplets cascading down hot skin. Gossamer hair floating along the surface of the stream. Heated sighs in the cool summer night. Gasps of air, tinged with the scent of columbines and rhododendron. A single ray of moonlight, falling just shy of the girlish body nestled contentedly beneath the hemlock tree. And then, the terror._
> 
> _Sweet Leda did not notice right away. Caught in the moment between her thighs, she sighed and moaned in pleasure at the feeling of the water coasting around her and her fingertips dancing over her mons. Then, a slight splash, causing her eyes to flutter open._
> 
> _Before her, a beautiful swan, feathers pale white and tinged with gold in the moonlight, coasted towards her. She held her breath as the moment of ecstasy overcame her, eyes closing in pure ecstasy as the orgasm overtook her. When she opened her eyes again, gasping and trembling, the water felt colder, the night less familiar, than it had mere moments before. The swan vanished._
> 
> _As the aftershocks began to subside, she felt a strange sensation-- almost like the river was caressing her body with its eddies and silt. She shivered, looking down in confusion, to see the ghostly image of the swan below her, nestled just below her knees where it must have dove._
> 
> _She bit back a scream as it raised its head, looking at her for a moment, before it plunged its beak--_

Leda woke with a shout, the nightmare tearing through her body as a Spartan’s sword through their enemy. Her bed lay empty, Tyndareus undoubtedly off for some important duty regarding their latest news from the warfront. She panted, feeling her cold sweat beading along her brow, down her breasts, between her thighs, behind her knees. The sheets were too heavy, too hot. She flung the bed clothes and stood frantically, naked chest heaving as she tried to clamp down on the terror of the nightmare before it could take over her mind. 

_Just a dream._

_Just a dream._

_Just a dream._

The mantra played in her head, though she knew it was a lie. Not a dream, but a distant yet ever solidifying memory. Months before, when her attendants had found her, half drowned, bleeding by the stream, she had told them she had no memory of what occurred. But now, the pieces had begun to fall together. 

It was all she could do not to weep in horror. 

Since that horrible night, her monthly blood had not come. The fear of a child who looked nothing like her husband terrified her. He was not cruel to his household, but the king of the Spartans was certainly not known as a kind nor compassionate man. She shuddered to think what would become of her, or any child she carried, should her husband suspect the seed in her womb belonged to someone other than him. 

Feeling quite ill now, she rushed to the chamber pot along the edge of her bed, emptying her stomach of its contents. Heaving, shoulders shaking, she knelt to the floor, bracing her arms along the terracotta pot. 

Along the edges of the basin, a scene was painted in the classic Greek style-- Leda knew it to be the story of Persephone, the Goddess of Spring, and how she was taken from her mother to the Underworld below by her consort, Hades, God of the Dead. In the quiet moment as she waited for her stomach to settle again, Leda studied the ceramic faces. There was no fear, nor hate, between either of them. They rode as equals, together holding the reins steady over the charging black stallion. 

Leda wondered if there was truth in this artist’s rendition--that the kidnapping was a rescue, the rape a consummation. She found herself wishing for such truth in her own story, but knew it would never be so. Who would dare to rescue her?

The cold fear gripped her stomach again, and she heaved. 

The rest of her day passed in a blur, but the unblinking eyes of the master and mistress of the Underworld seemed burned to the forefront of her mind. She had heard that he loved his bride too much to leave her alone on the surface. That the queen ruled beside her husband as an equal. Numbly, Leda wondered whether the crown of the Unseen Realm was a burden or a privilege. She wondered too which she would consider her own crown. 

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, please read the tags before you proceed.   
> This chapter has graphic descriptions of temple sacrifices and blood, as well as implied/explicit references to rape as well as consensual sex.

It had been a hard winter. Their kingdom had born the brunt of a new war, and the smell of burning fat and bones filled the air constantly as the palace priests made offerings to the children of Zeus for wisdom and strength in battle.

Queen of the Spartans, Leda had held court in absence of her husband as he planned his latest war campaign. The first in a series of sieges, he had promised to be gone no more than a fortnight, though his bride had no faith in his promises. The constant in battle was unpredictability, and Leda had grown weary of her husband’s empty words, clinging instead to the consistency of palace life. 

At present, the consistency of the court meant she was expected at the temple for the evening sacrifices, with the added sacrifice to Demeter’s daughter, the Maiden, to ask for a fruitful new growing season.

Leda repeated the instructions in her mind, trying to focus on what the high priest had asked of her. Wine, fat, bones, flowers? No, that couldn’t be right. Gold? She cursed herself for forgetting, and attempted to lengthen her stride, her swollen feet protesting wearily as she made her way to the temple courts. 

As she rounded the last bend, the sacred spaces seemed to open suddenly before her-- the palace brazier was already at full blaze, the fat of the last sacrifice melting in a sizzling heap at the core of the hearth, brackish blood oozing slowly down the brick stones to the entrance of the temple, an impressive testament to Sparta’s pious reverence for the Gods. 

As Leda took a deep breath of the dizzying smell of offerings, she felt a jolt through her womb, as if the child within her could somehow sense the blood, bones, and brine of the surroundings. She covered her pale hair, braided elegantly around the crown of her head, with a long, draping veil, embroidered, as was the current custom, with glimmering threads and beads in the shapes of the first flowers of spring. She stepped forward, kneeling at the lowest point of the steep staircase, one hand protectively cradling her womb as she carefully urged her body to bend lower. 

“Milady!” A cheerful voice called, a young woman with bronze skin skipped down the steps to stand before her. “Do you come to bear witness to our offerings today?” Her bright gray eyes searched the queen’s face as if checking for reassurance for something. After a brief moment, the quizzical look vanished. Whatever the priestess had been searching for, she had found it. 

“Yes, Eileithyia. I came to bear witness.” Leda’s voice was soft, unused to normal conversation. The only use it had in the last weeks was commanding a courtroom of officials who seemed to think they knew better than her. Yet this was no place for the voice of a commanding queen. Here, she was a hopeful supplicant, same as all others. 

The girl smiled, perhaps sensing the trepidation of the queen to be present in such unfamiliar territory. “Come, they are soon to begin.” She led the queen to a side entrance, its winding path did not hold the angle of those daunting steps, and the queen climbed patiently, praying with each step she took that she would not fall, nor stumble, that her husband would return to her unharmed and victorious, that her child would be of her husband’s seed, not divine as she feared in her terrible dreams each night.

“Milady,” Eileithyia spoke quietly, and Leda broke from her musings, surprised to find the temple already prepared for the royal sacrifices. She nodded to the young priestess and gestured for her servants to present the sacrifices. 

“For the god and goddess of war and wisdom,” she recited from memory. “I present the finest ram and bull of the Spartan flock and stables.” The servants brought forward the animals, and the sacrifice began, a showy flash of ceremonial knives, inarticulate chanting, and the heady smell of incense as the fire blazed in preparation for the blood offering. Leda felt her head begin to swim, and she involuntarily clung to the girl who stood so stoically beside her. 

Finally, they concluded, the entrails of both animals portents showing victory and success in all the endeavors of the Spartan court. Leda struggled to refrain from rolling her eyes. As if cow intestine could divine the future any more than she could. 

Next came the sacrifice for the change in seasons. Leda raised her brows curiously, unfamiliar with this ritual as she had only been married to the king for the last ten months. A hush fell over the temple court as the proselytes brought palm fronds, wreaths of flowers, and pomegranates to the center of the temple court. Leda raised an eyebrow, curious of the significance of these items. Demeter’s sacred object was barley, surely here there would be some? But the narcissus and asphodel flowers woven between the palm fronds seemed to contradict this notion. 

After laying the fronds so that the whole center of the temple floor was covered, roughly the size of a bedding place, a pure white, linen sheet was spread carefully over the offering, a single open pomegranate placed in the center, seeds catching the light of the braziers as the juice dripped slowly onto the fabric and fronds below, creating a bizarre imitation of the sheets of a recently deflowered maiden. 

Beside her, Eileithyia stepped forward, eyes hungry and mirroring the flames of the sacrifices beside her. Leda found herself holding a breath as she watched the girl step forward to the sheet, bare feet stepping daintily onto the fabric and as her trembling fingers grasped the pomegranate husk. The young woman turned in a slow circle with the fruit in her palm outstretched, daring the rest of the court to make eye contact with her. Her eyes came to rest on a young man who had helped with the sacrifices earlier. Handsome and strong, with skin as deep brown as that of fertile earth, and eyes the color of spilled ink. He had been the one to slit the throat of the bull offering, his hands still splattered with the blood from the libations. 

With one hand, the priestess extended the fruit to the young man. 

“Lucius,” she commanded, “will you eat of the fruit of the goddess?”

The man, Lucius, nodded hesitantly. “I will, my priestess.” 

“Come.”

He stepped forward, removing his sandals and stumbling momentarily, before stepping onto the sheet with her, an arms length from the girl who had seemed to transform into a woman magically before them. 

“Take, and eat.”

Leda watched the strange ceremony with bated breath. The couple’s fingers dripped red, not with blood as she was used to for traditional sacrifices (save for the drying speckles on Lucius’ strong forearms), but with the fragrant juices of the pomegranate. They fed the seeds to one another one, two, four, six times, before kneeling together on the floral bed, hands clasped tightly. Their heads came together, slowly, intimately, reverently, and a piece of Leda’s heart ached for something she had never known. 

* * *

The ceremony was a strange one, Leda thought to herself as she began the slow, winding descent back down from the temple. The queen of Sparta had not witnessed anything like it before, though she had seen men ravishing temple priestesses in something they claimed to be worship, the tenderness and gentleness and  _ respect _ that shone from the priestess and her acolyte as they coupled on the makeshift bedding surprised her. Surely this was not a sacrifice to the  _ Maiden _ , Kore? Then whom? 

Beside her, the now flushed priestess seemed lost in thought, her hands occasionally fluttering to her throat, or her hair, or clutching against her bosom. The women walked together in silence for the majority of their descent. As they drew nearer to the palace floor, however, Eileithyia paused, turning to Leda with wide eyes. 

“Milady,” she began slowly. 

“Hmm?”

“Your children, their power stirs within you. Your time is soon upon you” 

Leda stopped abruptly, frowning as she studied the girls’ face. Perhaps she had not been as strong as she presented herself as she stepped forward on the temple floor. Had her mind been fractured? Or was she touched by Dionysis himself? She studied the girl before her. 

“Are you ill, child?”

The priestess laughed, and then her stormy eyes shifted, looking old and out of place on her youthful face.

“Child?” She smirked, “You have a strange dedication to the term considering what you just witnessed.” The priestess resumed her descent, speaking casually as she passed her. “I am no more a child than your children are of your husband’s lineage.” 

Leda stopped cold as she watched the girl retreat. “What did you just say to me, wretch?” All their earlier familiarity had seemingly melted away, replaced only by the cold fear that settled slowly into the pit of her stomach. 

“Is it so hard to acknowledge the truth before your eyes, my queen?” She turned to look over one shoulder, the challenge on her lips, still red from the juice of the fruit, infuriated the pregnant woman. She stepped forward, raising her hand in outrage. 

“How dare you--”

Eileithyia grabbed her wrist, pulling her close to her face, eyes dark with terrible knowledge. “I dare,  _ oh Queen _ , because you are far more important than you give yourself credit for. I dare, because the goddess who sent me to protect you has given me terrible visions of what is to come, and I wish to protect your children from their fates. I dare because _ I am no child.”  _

Leda blinked, and found herself in a long tunnel. Her senses were overwhelmed. Screams pierced the air, interspersed with hyperventilation and wailing. Metallic blood and earthy sweat filled her nose, her mouth dried as she felt the clench of her womb and the familiar ache of her monthly blood. She knew, and the terror of knowing broke her from the vision. 

“You, you…” Leda whispered, stumbling backwards from the priestess and falling to the stone beneath her. “It was not my will. He forced himself upon me. Please, I beg you, I beg your mistress, do not punish my house!” Her voice broke as she fell to her knees, numbly registering the sensation of the granite steps biting into her swollen legs. 

“You know who took you. You would be wise to choose your words carefully…” The low voice whispered in her ear. 

Leda nodded miserably. “I know, I’ve known! I could not bring myself to think of it for many months. I’ve prayed daily that my child would be my husband’s alone. I begged! I never wanted this…” She sobbed, feeling defeated by the horrible experience as the gravity of her assault finally overtook her.

A hand, then. Resting on her shoulder, comforting instead of cold. “Milady,  _ my _ queen already knows. You are protected  _ \--safe-- _ from divine retribution, both in this life and the next. But we must be diligent in how to explain your children and their forms to your husband. He shall be far less forgiving.” 

Leda shook, sobbing in fear of her husband, and relief that the Gods would not seek vengeance against her. 

“Goddess,” she shook, looking up from her hands which were cupped in supplication. “Please, help me protect my children.” 

Eileithyia, goddess of childbirth and fertility, nodded solemnly as she sank to Leda’s feet, clasping the woman’s cold hands in her own. “I shall, I swear it.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so excited about this story, and I hope you guys are too.   
> What do you guys think? Will Eileithyia protect Leda? Will her husband find out the true parentage of their children? I would love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> ~Beth


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me, I promise things will get better. New chapter will be posted soon!

Persephone found herself standing silently along the beach, waiting stoically for Charon’s ferry. Ahead, tendrils of mist rose from the tepid water of the Styx, as the crest of the boat slowly came into view. The ferryman pushed deep into the water, guiding the craft smoothly to where his queen stood. 

His voice was gravel and shadow, a depth due to his titanic heritage, son of the Titaness of Night and Titan of Darkness. His all black eyes snapped up to the grimacing face of the Queen of the Dead as his head rose imperceptibly from its bow of deference. 

“Your Majesty.” He paused, grimacing. “I found her huddled by the shore.” He stretched his arm, clad in a trailing robe of smoke-like fabric to point behind him to the passenger who sat alone. 

A pale figure, in death as she was in life, gossamer hair floating behind her. The only sign of her death was the crimson slash which wound its way across her throat and down her breast. The gore made Persephone cringe, even though she knew the stain would be temporary for the shade. Once any shade had crossed over and been sentenced in the court of Hades, this gruesome reminder would fade. In the meantime, it was a harsh but necessary reminder for shades that there was no returning to the realm above. 

“Queen Leda,” Persephone smiled gently. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, though I do wish it could be under kinder circumstances. I have been watching your thread spin for quite some time.” 

The young woman looked up at the goddess, eyes unseeing. She had been this way on the beach as well when Charon had found her. 

“She has been  **ἁρπάζω** , milady,” Charon murmured softly. 

Persephone felt her heart break.  **Ἁρπάζω,** raptured. It was a tragic occurrence with shades. It did not happen often, but whenever it did, it wounded the gentle goddess of Spring. Raptured shades were those who had been ripped from their lives violently and prematurely. They spent their time on the beach reliving those last moments of pain and dying. It was a horrible way to begin their afterlife, and traumatizing for most to the point that they were unable to stand trial before the court for long periods of time, further complicating their experiences as they were often worthy of Elysium but unable to go there until sentenced. 

The queen frowned, considering that problem for a moment. She would have to revisit the topic with her husband. Perhaps they could put forward some legislation to fast track those particular shades. 

She sighed, waving the thought away as she extended a single obol towards Charon. “Thank you for bringing her, my friend. Here is her payment, as promised.” Charon nodded, then gestured to the shade still huddled in the boat. 

Persephone raised her robes in one hand, stepping into the boat carefully, then sunk to the level of the crouched shade. She extended a single hand to the woman, palm up, inviting, not demanding. 

“Leda,” She said in a soft voice. “My sweet girl, will you not find your rest with me now?”

Leda’s gray eyes slowly rose to the goddess’ face. Mutely, she nodded her head, ever so slightly acknowledging the goddesses question. 

“Come with me, darling. You have been so very brave. Will you walk with me?” The goddess’ voice was sunlight and meadows, petrichor and pale pink flowers just beginning to unfurl after a cold winter. Her smile disarmed the shade, and Leda tentatively reached for the hand extended toward her. The two women rose together, the boat rocking slightly beneath them. 

Persephone stepped out first, Charon gently assisting her. Behind her, Leda hugged herself, afraid to look at the ferryman and his outstretched hand. Persephone made a mental note that the girl seemed afraid of men and stepped in front of Charon, giving him a gentle look of affirmation as he stepped away. 

“Milady, will you join me?” She extended her hand, pale pink in the gray light of the underworld. The shade hesitated just a moment longer, then took the goddess’ hand once more, stepping out of the boat. Charon sighed, relieved. The worst was over. This side of the beach, the shades were less affected by their memories of the life they had. She could now begin to heal. Her soul would be restored. 

He bowed once more to the goddess and her new charge, then stepped silently back into the boat, rowing towards the other shore once again. 

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have not been entirely honest with you, my king. I have been... monitoring several situations of similar content to that of Queen Leda’s life, but it seems that yesterday the fates decided to twist their strings together....”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another trigger warning, this chapter includes a VERY graphic scene. I have italicized it so you can skip through, and will include notes summarizing at the bottom.
> 
> Very brief mention of Apollo raping Persephone.

“Husband!” Persephone’s voice echoed loudly in the giant courtroom as the shades opened the doors to her. Marching forward, her dark pink hair grew dramatically--something that had not happened in nearly a century. It wound behind her like a war flag, unfurling as her power curled in a seething mass, the color of mortal blood, of spilt wine, the color of bruised rose petals and seeping wounds. The courtroom door slammed behind her, but neither Persephone nor her husband registered it as they locked eyes. Hades, God of the Dead, stood as she entered, several scrolls falling from his lap as he took in the furrow of his beloved’s brow. 

“Give us the room.” He waved his hand, dismissing the various shades and workers, and descended the steps to stop before his wife. Persephone had a deep scowl on her face, but behind her look of wrath was a sorrow Hades had only seen a handful of times in their long marriage. 

“Sweetness, what happened?” 

Persephone took a deep breath, then reached for his hand, lacing her soft pink fingers between his large blue ones. “Can we sit down? It’s about your brother…” 

Zeus. He knew it in an instant, and with that knowledge came rage. It was instantaneous and overwhelming, Hades felt his skin prickle with the divine form that threatened to burst forth, darkness shimmering beneath his skin. He swallowed, forcing the bilious taste in the back of his throat to retreat, and took a deep, slow breath. 

“Of course.” He transferred them quietly to his office, and sat down on the couch after ensuring the door was locked and his phone would be silent. “What’s the asshole done now?”

Persephone’s anger faded, revealing the tears swimming in her eyes. The deep, terrible sorrow that Hades felt radiating from her stole his breath away. 

“Oh, Aidoneus,” she choked out brokenly, “It’s so horrible. Look.” She held in her hands a single strand of mortal life, snipped brutally short. Slowly, she wound the strand around his palm, pressing it with her own so they could both take in the details of the life taken before its time. 

Hades felt nothing abnormal at first. A baby girl, growing into a lovely young woman. Courted by the savage king of Sparta--a _queen_ then, much like his own. She ruled with excitement and engagement, while her husband was not loving, he was fair and just, and eager to share his court with his new bride. And then… 

His hand tightened and nearly snapped the gentle thread. After everything Persephone had gone through in the aftermath of her rape and the subsequent trial of Apollo, to have his own brother commit such a brutal action was beyond unforgivable. It was treasonous against everything the Gods claimed to believe in. 

He willed himself to move forward in the mortal’s life--taking in her discovery of her pregnancy, the daily fear that gripped her throat whenever she thought of what waited for her at the end of her term. The looming fears of the unknown--how would her husband react? What would her child be like? Could she ever bring herself to love them, now knowing they may be the product of such brutal violence? 

Then there was another irregularity--this time the touch of a goddess, not a god. His own beloved, Kore, as she gently wove in the touch of their niece, Eileithyia, to mentor and support the expecting mother. He frowned in confusion at sensing his niece. The goddess should have protected the mortal from any issues in childbirth, so why did she die? 

He found his answer in the last moments of Leda’s short life. As she gave birth-- to twins, no less-- there was no denying the children were demigods.

\---- 

_They emerged from the mortal woman’s womb still cocooned in pearlescent eggshells, translucent and shimmering in veins of ichor, so that they looked like they were marbled with abalone and gold. Their shadowed bodies could just be made out through the shells, fetuses curled in on themselves, defenseless without the magic surrounding them. The children would need to be “born” again, emerging from the eggs independently. To hatch them early was outside of_ _Eileithyia’s_ _domain._

_When the king demanded to see his children, he came to his own conclusions. Declaring his wife unfaithful to him, he wasted no time in executing her himself, pulling the trembling woman by her hair until she stood before him. Still in the throes of her afterbirth, blood slicking her thighs, he brought her face close to his, sneering as she begged, before slashing her throat, her screams choked by gurgling blood as she collapsed to the floor, her head tilting unnaturally far back in a grim red facsimile of a smile._

_In the madness,_ _Eileithyia_ _scooped up the eggs and ran from the room, honoring her promise to her friend to protect the children from the enraged king. She sobbed as she sprinted through the palace, slipping and sliding in the blood of childbirth and uxoricide coating her feet. The goddess had planned in the last month for every possible scenario with the young queen. This was, by far, one of the worst possible outcomes._

_Shaking,_ _Eileithyia_ _stepped through the aether, bringing the children with her into the Underworld, straight into the arms of Queen Persephone._

\----

Only once Hades had gone from the beginning to the end of the short life several more times, taking in every moment from birth to death, did he look up at his wife’s face, the tears streaming down his face mirrored in her own. 

“How could he?” His voice was a growl, the sound of a broken, wounded animal. 

Persephone shook her head wordlessly, too overcome by emotion to bring herself to speak. 

“I’ll kill him.” Hades felt himself shifting now, powerless to stop the galaxies that spread across his skin. “I mean it this time. He is no better than Kronos. I will destroy him.” 

A pale pink hand lay across his arm, squeezing gently, grounding him. “Hades,” Kore looked up at him, eyes searching. “Stay with me.” 

He took a deep breath, willing himself back from the precipice of his mind. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” He sighed, rubbing his face with his hand. “What do you want to do, Sweetness? I will follow your lead.” 

“The question is not for me to answer, my king. Come, it’s time for you to meet Queen Leda.” She hesitated. “And, the _others_.” With that, she rose from the couch, collecting herself into the mask of Queen of the Underworld once more, leaving behind the vulnerability of the moment. Her hair still hung long behind her, dragging on the floor. Absently, she summoned her dagger and sliced through the growth, releasing the fistful of petals left in her hand as her hair settled back into its normal length once more. 

“Others?” Hades mused, following her to the door. 

She paused, cringing slightly. “I have not been entirely honest with you, my king. I have been... _monitoring_ several situations of similar content to that of Queen Leda’s life, but it seems that yesterday the fates decided to twist their strings together.” She sighed. “They await us in Elysium. Bring your helm. We will not be returning to court today.”

He nodded wordlessly and rose to follow her, summoning his helm as he went.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary of Italicized Portion:  
> Queen Leda goes into labor and successfully gives birth to twins, but the children are born in eggshells, clearly not mortal. Her husband is furious and kills her in a fit of rage. Eileithyia rescues the eggs and takes them to Queen Persephone. 
> 
> We're getting there, I'm so excited! Thank you for sticking with me through this wild ride, I can't wait for the next chapter! Who do you think the "others" will be?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queen Leda finds her rhythm in the afterlife, and Queen Persephone answers some questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So excited for this chapter, we finally are able to get to meet some new characters! 
> 
> Brief mention of assault and death of character.

Leda was in love. It was the only word she could use to describe the adoration she felt for the tiny lives nestled before her. That she could mother her own children from beyond the grave? It was too good, too much, more than she could have ever hoped for when she first made her plans with  Eileithyia. Never in their wildest, most far reaching schemes had they thought of this possibility. Leda felt so safe, beyond death, beyond pain, she was content to live, or die, as it were, in this new realm of reality. 

Her only fear had been the status of her children. When Queen Persephone had brought her to Eileithyia and the eggs initially, she had fallen into a panic, certain that her husband had cruelly killed her children and friend as well. It was not until Eileithyia swore the safety of the children on the Styx, and reminded the shade that as a goddess, she could not die, that the new mother’s fears began to subside. Then came the plethora of questions, winding their ways out of her like an underground spring. How did the goddess get away? Could the children stay here with her to grow up beyond the grave with their mother? Would the children be marked in some way by their upbringing in the Underworld? 

Eileithyia had laughed goodnaturedly and did her best to answer all of the questions. Queen Persephone had given her blessing to the children being raised in Elysium, and Eileithyia and Persephone had both assured Leda there would be no lasting effects on the twins’ mortal lives.

The following days had passed in happy bliss, as Leda tenderly cared for her “younglings” as Eileithyia had jokingly called them one day, turning them daily in their eggs, ensuring their beautiful, alabaster shells were protected by the softest moss and grass she could find in their sliver of paradise. Leda thought she could never be happier than she was in these moments. 

Her happiness was compounded as she met the other women who dwelled in her section of Elysium. It appeared that a portion of Queen Persephone’s duties included deciding which mortals were most compatible for living together in the afterlife, and the section that she had been assigned to were filled with women only, many of whom were of a similar age to her own. It was the closest she had felt to having sisters since she had been fourteen and her older sisters had been married off to men from distant lands. 

Their Elysium was situated in a valley that was surrounded by tall redwood trees, very different from the forests of Leda’s home. The grove was not overwhelming or constricting, rather it brought to mind the sensation of rest, renewal, and joy.

A creek meandered through the bottom of the valley, cool and crisp in the shade of the forest. Huge, long dead trunks circled around a fairy ring, their bark looking broken and burned by an ancient forest fire, the tops of each thatched with sweet smelling evergreen boughs. Today, the ring was home to the occupants of Elysium-- Leda, her “younglings,” and her new sisters--Mela, Procne, Medusa, Arachne, and Ariadne.

The first neighbor Leda met was the young woman who “lived” within the trunk to her left. She, too, had died too young, and would live for eternity in paradise at the age of fifteen. Her name was Philomel, Mela for short. 

Mela had a home that was decorated with bright, rich tapestries, surrounding herself with the most vibrant of colors. She spent many days by the creek, experimenting and mixing the various kinds of clay she uncovered there, and working the pigments together until they became the perfect dyes for thread or paint. Every few days, a soft rainstorm would come and shower the little village, and the outside of Mela’s home would melt away into the soft forest floor, the colorful murals she painted erased by the elements. These were the best days, as Mela would cheerfully rise, grabbing soft blankets, brushes, and bowls of prepared pigments, and spend her time from morning meal to supper carefully painting whatever struck her in the moment in big, vibrant swathes across the trunk of her home. 

Of all the murals Leda observed, the most common appeared to be the subject of two birds, a swallow and nightingale, which would dip between tree branches, or swoop low over fields of flowers, or one rather dark day, seemed to be feasting on the carcass of a hawk. 

Mela had been in a foul mood that day, and concluded her mural by promptly splashing the entire thing in river water and storming back inside her home while the trickles of mud washed down the charred bark, looking for all the world like gory mortal blood caked into the gnarled bark. Apparently, minds can be troubled, even in paradise. 

Mela lived alongside her birth sister, Procne, who from what Leda gathered, had passed at the same time as Mela herself. Procne was older, possibly mid-twenties, and she was as different from Mela as it was possible to be.

Where Mela was sweet and artsy, Procne was straightforward, brash even. She had a fiercely protective streak, often walking in circles around the perimeter of their grounds, as if she were checking for intruders, and training for long hours with swords and knives. She had frequent night terrors, often screaming out in the middle of the night. Whenever this happened, Mela would rush from her brightly decorated home to Procne’s dark, cold one, bringing along a lantern as she would burst through the door to wake her sister from her nightmares. 

One day, Leda asked Queen Persephone about Procne’s night terrors and Mela’s foul moods as they walked along the bottom of the creek, feet tingling and numb in the clear water. 

“Your Majesty, I wonder about the sisters. Are they well?” 

Persephone sighed. “Leda, you know you don’t have to call me by my title. Persephone is fine with me.”

Leda nodded, chagrined. “Very well, Persephone. But are they well?”

Persephone was quiet for a long time as she stared down the banks of the creek. “Souls are fickle things, Leda.” She looked down at the riverbed beneath their feet. “Much like the water, souls travel through time, always learning new things, going new places. In your mortal lives, you are never still. There is always something that is changing, growing, evolving…” She trailed off, lost in thought.

“Like the spring?” 

“Exactly, dear one. It’s one of the many reasons why I am so partial to your kind.” She smiled at Leda. “Yet here, even in Elysium, there is not change of the same kind. The souls of mortals grow much more slowly. They are locked, in a sense, into whatever their experiences were before they died. That is, the growth and development they achieved, they will continue to live with--for eternity.” She paused. “Unless of course, there is divine interference. Hecate and I work regularly with souls, especially those in Elysium, to help them to continue towards their potential, and to move past their pain.” 

Leda’s eyes widened in surprise. “I feel I am not held captive by my death. Does that mean you have helped me?”

“Hmm.” Persephone studied her for a long moment. “Perhaps I explain it too narrowly. It is not that shades relive their deaths, that would be cruel. But the feelings you developed in the last months of your life, your bravery, strength, deep maternal affection for your unborn children…” As she said each thing, blossoms appeared in Leda’s hair, crowning her with the goddess’ favor. “All of these things help to define your soul now. To give you identity and purpose. Meaning. These traits help you to remember who you are.” 

Leda smiled shyly, looking down at the water now rushing around her calves as they continued their walk. “And as for the sisters?”

Persephone sighed. “It is their story to tell. But they are healing. It is complex magic, to heal the mind after death. But Hecate and I are working with them. And in the meantime, they rest. Same as you.”

The words brought to mind the first time Leda had heard of her afterlife as a place to rest. The first time she met Persephone’s husband, King Aidoneus Hades. 

It was on the third day of her ‘new life’ (as she had grown to call it). Queen Persephone and a tall, intimidating god with deep blue skin and a long, hooked nose, shimmered into existence from the aether. Leda froze in fear as she took in the intimidating, coal red eyes--the crisscross of scars down his chest looked like he had been brutally beaten by a cat-o-nine-tails. His face, however, twisted not in cruelty, as she was so used to experiencing from men of power like her late husband, but in a tender sorrow that took her by surprise. 

“Queen Leda,” the magenta goddess murmured, smiling encouragingly at the shade. “I would like to introduce you to my husband, Aidoneus.” 

Leda’s eyes flicked between the queen and the mysterious Aidoneus before her. “I thought…” She took in his dark chiton, embroidered in crimson and gold thread in the shapes of pomegranates and asphodel blossoms. 

His voice was like a rockslide, deep bass and gravelly, as he leaned forward in a deep bow of respect. “Milady, welcome to my kingdom. King Hades Aidoneus, at your service.” 

Leda’s eyes grew wide as she realized this towering, tender man was the fearsome “Unseen One.” She had heard him described in many ways, her least favorite of his names, “The Dark Zeus,” had caused her a sleepless night her first night in Elysium, so afraid to let down her guard as she found herself in a similar wood to the one where she was first assaulted. But as she looked into his eyes, like two hearths staring back at her, any fears she had of this god and his cruelty were eased, instantly. She knew he would never bring her anything but kindness and care. 

At this thought, tears filled her eyes and spilled down her face as she threw herself at the king and queen’s feet, lying prostrate before them as she keened. 

“Oh my fates! What have I, a foolish mortal woman, ever done to deserve the favor of your majesties? Praise be to you and praises to your kingdom, for all you have done to bless me in this new life!” She sobbed, feeling the soft grass beneath her shift softly, as if it were fluttering under a strong breeze. 

She looked up in alarm and realized the beautiful spring goddess had crouched down to brush her hair, tenderly pushing her blonde strands behind her ears where they had untucked from her braids. Below the two of them, the grass had morphed into a riotous mat of color--red chrysanthemums, irises, and anemones bloomed between their curled bodies. 

“Sweet Leda, you are more than welcome here. It is our honor to keep you and give you respite and rest from your grief. Will you let us sit with you awhile?” 

The woman nodded, tears still dripping furiously from her eyes as she tried to sit up, hiccoughing every so often as she tried to catch her breath. 

King Hades, or Aidoneus, awkwardly folded his long legs beneath him, sinking ungracefully into the grass beside Leda and his wife. Persephone giggled watching him, and he gave her a smirk in return. As Leda began to regain her breath, Persephone and Aidoneus looked around them, enjoying the sights of the forest. Occasionally, Aidoneus would point out some flower or tree, and Persephone would respond with information about why she had chosen it or what it’s purpose was. Their easy banter and mutual respect touched a chord deep in Leda’s heart. Soon, her eyes were brimming with tears again, this time full of wistfulness that her own marriage had known such kindness, instead of the rage it culminated in. Her hand fluttered to her throat as she recalled those final moments. 

Persephone and Aidoneus noticed the movement, and stilled their conversation as they studied the shade before them. Finally, Persephone crouched forward, trying to help Leda out of her moment of dissociation. 

“Leda?” The eyes of the girl slowly raised to meet the goddess’ own. “How are your babies doing? Do you need anything to help them grow?” 

Leda smiled, pride shimmering off her face as she sat up straighter. “No, my lady. They are perfect.” She looked shyly at Aidoneus. “Would you like to meet them?” 

Aidoneus grinned. “It would be my pleasure.” 

  
  



End file.
